


Morphine

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dream Magic, Drug Use, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: A pining Hermione indulges in a Dream-Inducing Draft that allows her to meet Theo in the oneiric world.The consequences of her choice are unexpected and dangerous.





	Morphine

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2019Round2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2019Round2) collection. 



> Many thanks to The Slytherin Cabal for the second round of this exciting fest!  
> Award: Third place for Round Two.
> 
> Alpha/Beta love to a precious soul who deserves much more credit than she knows...I_was_BOTWP, thank you.  
> Please, mind the tags. This work contains drug consumption/addiction themes.

* * *

 

 

 

_Scrape, scrape, scraping._

 

The feather swished in the air, its tip running over the rough surface of the parchment as long fingers curled around the quill.

Hermione sighed as a thumb rose to perfectly chiselled lips. When Theo bit on his nail, his mouth opening around his finger, Hermione clenched the spine of the book that she was holding close to her chest.

Her obsession with Theodore Nott had begun in September when she had first heard his laughter echoing within the walls of the castle and her heart. Once taciturn and a loner, Theo had become talkative, his knowledge posing a challenge to her position of first in the class. She didn’t know what had changed in him; the only difference she was aware of being that his father had been sentenced to Azkaban after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. To be outranked in class should have bothered her, but instead, she felt drawn to him, attracted by his intelligence and cleverness. Quickly, she had also discovered that he was rather pleasant to look at. His hands, in particular, stirred all sorts of uncanny reactions from her body. Whenever she could, she stole glances of him.

From her hidden spot behind a tall bookcase, Hermione spied on Theo while he leaned back, his broad shoulders resting on the back of the chair and his eyes wandering to a textbook opened next to his parchment. When Theo pulled his lower lip between his teeth, concentrating on the problem before him, a familiar coil of lust tightened inside her core.

On weak legs, she took a shaky breath and paced to an empty table, close enough to Theo’s for her to look at him, but far enough not to raise suspicions.

As she lowered herself on the seat, the chair scraped the floor, producing a cringeworthy sound that echoed within the library.

Theo lifted his gaze from the book, meeting Hermione's eyes.

 

_Thump, thump, thumping._

 

She never thought a heart could beat so fast. Everything around her spun out of control, the books and shelving growing distorted and their edges bleeding out and melting together. All she could see was the brilliant emerald of Theo's irises.

A corner of Theo's lips rose in an unsure grin.

It was too much. Pursing her lips and clenching her thighs together, she averted her eyes, more determined than ever to accomplish the task she had set in her mind. She was going to do something about her infatuation.

Taking a fancy to the son of a Death Eater was a bad idea. Acting upon it, though, would not only be dangerous and idiotic, but would betray Harry and everything he stood for. Moreover, she refused to display nauseous, sugary behaviours, embarrassing herself as Lavender did when Ron was around. Hermione had exposed herself enough already with the screeching chair; it wouldn’t do to be seen goggling over Theo.

For all these reasons, she had been researching a more subtle solution, wandering the Restricted Section with a special pass issued by Slughorn. With cunning, she had convinced the professor that a particular book would improve her brewing skills. In reality, she misused her privilege to peruse the Potions aisle until she had found a certain antique leather-bound book.

Studying the cover now looking at her from the table top, she caressed the winged man carved on the surface, her fingers slightly trembling.

Among the brittle pages, lay an interesting Dream-Inducing Draft.

She couldn’t have Theo in real life, but that hardly stopped her from meeting a dream version of him, where nobody could see them.

 

* * *

 

_Ding, ding, dinging._

 

Suspended in a white cloud, she tumbled around in the air, the humid vapours buffering her. A metallic melody filled her senses, similar to the sound that the Aurora Borealis sometimes created while painting teal ribbons in the sky.

Raising her hands in front of her eyes, Hermione giggled as her own fingers appeared faded and indefinite. She tested her sense of touch, feeling her chest and stomach, fingers sliding along an ivory halter dress.

In her oneiric daze, it took her a moment to see that Theo had materialised into the cloud. She smiled, drinking in his lithe body. Only a pair of white trousers covered him, leaving his unmarred torso and arms bare. As she raked her eyes over his lean muscles, she felt a blush creeping on her skin. When she finally met his gaze, she froze, her grin slipping. His angular face bore a worried scowl, his mouth opened in astonishment.

“Granger, what have you done?” His voice was clipped, almost panicky.

She reminded herself that this was just a dream, her dream, and he was nothing but a manifestation of her desires.

His frame floated towards her. “You brewed an opium decoction, didn’t you?”

Hermione nodded, but immediately frowned, not expecting a grunt of frustration from Theo. The potion was supposed to give her control of her dreams, but she had never wished for Theo to be so hostile. Hermione crossed her arms, disappointed that her plan was going astray. “Well, this is my dream, and I shape it.”

Canting his head to the side, he stared at her with pensiveness. “Dream controlling potions are dangerous. My mother overdosed on one.”

“I won’t take it again.” Hermione felt silly promising something to an imaginary man.

He glared at her, shaking his head. “It only takes once! You trapped us in a dream.”

“Us? This is not real, it’s my subconscious.” She placed her hands on his arms - he was hard and warm. He flinched at first, but then relaxed into her touch, sighing and speaking with more composure. “Yes, Granger. You are controlling both our dreams. I assume you stole some hair from me. That allowed you to possess my sleep as well.” With an intense gaze, he asked, “Why me?”

As reality came crushing over her, she felt embarrassed and ashamed for summoning him in the oniric world. Turning away in an attempt to hide her rosy cheeks, she let him go. A beam of sunshine captured her gaze when it pierced through their cosy cloud, dissipating it.

What appeared before her left her speechless with awe.

Just below them, floated an island that looked as though it were made of fantasy matter. At the centre, stood a tall volcano, mists shrouding the middle of it. In lieu of a river of lava, a waterfall sprung from the top of it, precipitating down to an arrow shaped lake. Three rivers took life from it, slithering their way to the edge of the island. The water leapt off into the atmosphere, morphing into vapour that flew and clumped, forming fluffy clouds that soared back up to join the ring surrounding the mountain, renewing the water cycle.

In a symphony of screeching and neighing, a herd of winged horses sprouted from the vapour ring, ascending to the azure sky and leaving a trail of mist behind them. Their majestic ivory coats reflected the sun’s rays in a dazzling sparkle.

A hand wrapped around Hermione’s forearm, shaking her from the trance she had fallen into. Theo motioned with his head towards the island. Near the base of the volcano, poking through the fuzzy vegetation, rested ancient stone buildings. “Perhaps, searching those temples could give us a clue about a way out.”

As they made their descent, their bodies spiralling down in the misty atmosphere, an albino raven flew from the thick canopy below them. The bird arose past them and croaked, the shrill call echoing in the sky.

When they landed on the seemingly deserted island, Hermione internally acknowledged the danger posed by not being able to wake up. Without waiting for Theo, she climbed the steps to the closest temple. The tall columns, built according to the Ionic order of ancient Greece, were topped with two large volutes. She drank in the colonnade looming over the internal naos.

Standing on the last granite step, her gaze followed Theo slowly ascending. Once he had moved up to her level, he explored the temple, chin up and eyes wide with admiration. The sun rays filtering through the columns hit his torso, creating a light and shadow play that mesmerized her. She could not help beaming like a fool when he stood next to the statue of a tall god, looking much like one himself. She blamed the potion for her silliness, but before she could avert her gaze, the head of the statue moved. The god's eyes rotated towards her, a look of contempt spreading on its perfectly chiselled face. Hermione gasped, turning to sit on the step. When she looked back, the statue had returned to its previous pose.

After a while, Theo slumped down beside her. “Do you know anything about Greek mythology?” he asked, while he eyed her sideways as though he were testing her knowledge.

Hermione's mind went blank. For a moment, she felt absent and useless. Shaking away the sensation, she finally gained back access to her knowledge. “Enough to know that this temple is dedicated to Apollo. He’s the god of music, the sun and light, poetry, and healing.”

Theo hummed, nodding and averting his eyes. With a thoughtful sigh, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees while his hands dangled between his legs. “Since we are dream walking, it’s a fair conclusion that we should look for Morpheus’ temple.”

Hermione knew that he was right, Morpheus was the god of dreams. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet.

Theo followed her as she made her way among the shrines. What from afar had seemed perfection, now revealed to be decay. Most of the colonnades were crooked; the capitals and the arches were chipped and cracked. Statues with missing limbs and heads gave the place an eerie atmosphere. From the corner of her eyes, she started perceiving flashes and shadows. Whispers and murmurs echoed among the buildings. The emptiness around her contributed to her uneasiness.

Suddenly, Theo stepped in front of her. She hadn’t realised she had halted. Without hesitation, he pulled her towards his chest, his large hands warm on the small of her back.

“Focus. Think about a way to recognise Morpheus.” His words brought her back to their task.

All she knew about the god of dreams’ appearance was that he had wings. Once they resumed their search, they entered temple after temple, inspecting the statues and arches for clues, unfortunately realising that many gods could fly.

“Hermione,” Theo called suddenly. “Remember the raven?”

The wind playing with his sandy hair distracted her for a second, but then she tried to follow his trail of thoughts and focus. “Yes! It has to mean something. Albino ravens are rare.”

He approached her, looking excited. “Why would it appear to us?”

Hermione's gaze bounced between his eyes while she searched the depths of her memory. “There are legends of ravens stopping their flight to wake people up. It makes sense if you think about it.”

With a nod, he leaned towards her. “White ravens are associated with Apollo, who symbolizes the sun. It wouldn’t surprise me if we were to find another raven in the temple of dreams, to symbolize the awakening after sleep.”

While Hermione breathed in his scent, he smirked at her, taking her hand to continue their search. Many shrines still stretched down to one of the rivers, but it wasn't long until they stood before a circular temple. A statue of a handsome god with a raven perched on his shoulder greeted them, his wings folded around him.

“There's an inscription.” Hermione let go of his hand and rushed to the base of the statue. She knelt before it and focused, expecting Greek letters, but luckily finding English. “The man in the cave of poppies will guide you through the dream world.”

Where to find a cave, she didn't know. The mountain was so large and the vegetation so thick that she wasn't sure they would ever find it.

“What if there's a cave behind the waterfall?” Theo suggested.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, turning to face him.

“The Pegasi seemed to be flying out of there.” He shrugged.

With a smile, Hermione offered her hand for him to take. His intelligence made her quiver, but she tried to hide it, turning away and pulling him forth.

Hiking up the waterfall proved to be an arduous task. The volcano was steep, and the terrain was muddy and slippery. They had started at the bottom, where the water hit the pool, the roaring sound making it impossible to hear each other. By the time they were halfway, Hermione was soaked and painfully aware of the state of her white dress. Droplets of vapour sprinkled her flushed skin with merciful coolness. A blush painted Theo's cheeks as he tried to keep his eyes away from the wet fabric adhering to her body.

As they ventured up, her sight grew blurry, her mind going blank again, so that she almost hit a steep, rock wall blocking their path. Without trying to discuss a different plan, Theo hoisted himself upward and started the tricky climb. For a moment, she admired his firm backside before realising she had no way to stop him. The water roared too loudly, so she grabbed a rock that was sticking out and pulled herself up.

She had never been much of an athlete, but her body felt weaker and more helpless than it should while she struggled to find a way to conquer the facade.

When she reached the top, Theo had to drag her over the ledge lest she lose her grip. Panting, Hermione noticed a pathway that led behind the waterfall. Squeezing his hand for attention, she pointed at the narrow walk.

Theo nodded, proceeding in that direction with caution. The cave was there, a large mouth opening behind the crushing water. Beaming at her, he pulled her inside.

 

_Silence._

 

All sounds had ceased to exist. Void reverberated inside Hermione's brain. She had to open and close her jaw to adjust her ears.

The domed ceiling of the immense cavern cried white drops of a sticky liquid that slid down a myriad of stalactites. The dripping collected on the ground, forming just as many ivory stalagmites. Among the mineral formations, ran a field of poppies. Red and black blooms poked through green leaves. The scent was overwhelming, making her sway with dizziness.

“The name morphine is derived from Morpheus. Now, I understand why…” Hermione blurted out in a whisper.

Theo rose an eyebrow.

“It's a Muggle drug that is used for pain relief and sedation. It's derived from poppies,” she explained.

With a pensive nod, Theo ventured into the tall stems of the plants. “So, Muggles use medical herbs too?”

“Yes. Although most of the drugs are produced for healing, some people use them because they think it's fun.” Hermione frowned at her own words, and Theo turned to face her, a knowing smile not reaching his eyes.

“That's exactly what you did.” He voiced out loud what she had already concluded in her mind. Ashamed of herself, she cast her eyes to the ground.

“Welcome.” A stentorian voice echoed within the cave.

Hermione searched around her, but couldn't locate the source.

A lone cloud appeared above them and hovered just below the stalactites. It spun and twirled, descending on the field. The vapour dissipated and a man appeared, feathered wings keeping him afloat. He was surrounded by an aura of bright light that painted his features like quartz.

“Hermione Granger, now that you found me, you and Theodore Nott can finally exit my realm...if you agree to my condition.” Morpheus flew before her and landed, the flowers beneath him remaining untouched.

Though his light was blinding, she could still see his disdain. “By brewing and consuming an opium draft containing Theodore’s hair, you mingled his dreams with yours. The dream realm belongs to me.” Canting his head to the side, he lowered his voice, hissing out an order that sounded more like a taunt. “Promise you won’t take it again, and I’ll release you from my hold.”

Hermione hesitated. The temptation to stay in this paradise warred with her will to go home, forcing her to ignore the decay she had seen. The lure to be free from the dangers of the real world pulled strongly at her veins.

Morpheus’ gaze pierced through her, daring her to give in.

Almost sure she would use the potion again, she figured it would be easier to remain. When she opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, strong hands seized her, forcing her to turn away from the beautiful god. Theo’s terrified gaze searched her face.

“I know what’s going through your mind. I saw it with my mother. She was convinced that the potion took her to a better place. My father is an abusive bastard, so I can’t totally blame her. But Hermione, I’ve seen the downside of this. She kept seeing things, telling me she heard voices that suggested she take more potion. So she did. She brewed bigger batches because it was never enough. One night, she overdosed.”

Hermione still hesitated, prompting Theo to tighten his grip. “Please, your life outside is worth living, even if there will be a war. Both our lives are worth living!” Theo’s eyes glinted in the god’s bright light, and Hermione fell to her knees, sobs shaking her.

“I promise,” she whispered, and she meant it, knowing that he was right. Her friends and family didn’t deserve to lose her in such a manner. Besides, she had no right to steal Theo’s life with hers.

Morpheus’ grey eyes attracted her gaze like magnets. “If you break this promise, my uncle Thanatos will greet you next time.”

Hermione shivered, as she comprehended that Morpheus had just threatened to kill her if she slipped. Thanatos was the god of death.

With a fluid movement, the god of dreams lifted his hand and blew on it. Golden sand flourished from his palm, flying towards Theo and Hermione.

Theo held her while everything went black.

 

* * *

 

_Whisper, whisper, whispering._

 

“...coming to!”

“Can you hear me, dear?”

Muffled voices flooded her sense of hearing, calling her consciousness forth, away from the darkness.

With difficulty, she opened her eyes, seeing nothing but shapes at first. Slowly, the edges of one concerned face became defined. Professor McGonagall was studying her with a worried, yet stern frown. McGonagall was disappointed, and Hermione averted her eyes, feeling worthless.

She tried to sit up, but the firm hand of the school healer, who had moved from somewhere close, kept her down. “You and Mister Nott have been asleep for a week. Nobody could wake you up.”

One week. She had lost seven days of her life.

Turning whence Madam Pomfrey had come, she saw Theo. He was also awake, a faint smile distending his lips.

Relieved, Hermione breathed out and relaxed back down to let the nurse work.

When the two women left the infirmary, admonishing the two students to rest, Hermione forced herself to slip out of bed. Tomorrow, she would talk to McGonagall and explain what happened. First, though, she owed Theo an apology.

Her heart picked up its pace as she approached his side. Avoiding his eyes, she spoke with a broken voice. “I’m sorry, Theo. I put you in danger.” Ashamed, she turned to leave.

Before she could take a step away, Theo took her hand in his. She shivered as she realised how small her hand felt wrapped by his. When their eyes met, she noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. “If you wanted to hang out with me, you only had to ask, Hermione.”

She didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to think straight when her name rolling off his lips sounded so right now that she heard it in real life. She should be stating her case against a Muggleborn dating the son of a Death Eater, but she couldn’t breathe.

Perhaps, it had been written all over her features, but what he added lifted some weight off her chest. “I don’t share my father’s beliefs regarding blood purity.”

Hermione sat on the edge of his bed as he continued.

“I know that things will get worse. But I’m willing to give the undeniable attraction you feel for me a chance.” Theo winked, a smirk pulling a corner of his mouth. She rolled her eyes, and he took a deep breath, his features growing more serious. “I mean it. Now or after Potter finally rids us of You-Know-Who. Just...no more opium potion, please.”

“I promise,” she whispered, leaning towards him and capturing his lips with hers.

A shadow appeared in the corner of the room, whispering in Hermione’s direction, a warning of the temptation that would follow her for the rest of her days.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In this work, I took some poetic licence on Greek mythology. The white raven was Apollo's spy. He used it to keep an eye on his unfaithful lover. By describing the statue of the god of dreams with a raven, I referenced to the image of Gaiman's Sandman (Morpheus) and his raven instead.
> 
> Thank you for reading my story. Please, let me know your thoughts on it.


End file.
